


From the Basement

by Lalafell_Princess



Category: Final Fantasy VI
Genre: Cute, F/M, Post-Game(s), Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2021-02-19 08:36:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22008166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lalafell_Princess/pseuds/Lalafell_Princess
Summary: A laundry run has taken you to the basement of your apartment building. When you step out of the elevator, however, you find yourself somewhere completely unexpected.
Relationships: Edgar Roni Figaro/Reader
Kudos: 3





	1. Laundry

**Author's Note:**

> This story started out as a joke that I ended up falling in love with and finishing. Junior year of college, I had to haul my laundry down to the basement each time I wanted to wash it. This was when I was first getting into VI, and I thought to myself one day, "What if I walked out of the elevator into Figaro Castle instead of the laundry room?" So I sat down to write it, and the rest is history.  
> This has been adapted from a shameless self-indulgent first-person perspective, so some of the specific details might not fit your personality completely. I wasn't planning on posting it anywhere when I originally wrote it, but I'm pleased with the turnout, so I decided to share. Hope you enjoy~

It's that time of the month again. Laundry time. Your feet feel heavy as you slave to place every dirty article of clothing into one basket, sweeping over the tiny apartment you live in. Everything seems to be in order, and you wipe your forehead as you reach for the detergent on the shelf. It's a scorcher of a day; you keep muttering to yourself how it feels like living in a desert sometimes.

You kick open the door to the hallway of the complex, dragging your full basket behind you. The washers are in the basement, so you trudge to the elevator to descend the four floors below you. No way are you taking the stairs with a load that big to deal with. The doors slide open calmly, a compressed female voice announcing the elevator is going down. You press the B for basement, and settle back against the wall as the doors move shut behind you.

Your body jolts slightly as you begin to descend. Thoughts idly cross your mind as you wait; schoolwork, what you're going to have for dinner, the semester never seeming to end. You're tired of mindless assignments and staying up too late to finish them. You long for closure, to be free from the eternal hardship. Sighing, you tap your foot; the elevator is taking much longer than usual. Your stomach does a flip as you consider what would happen if it gets stuck. Suddenly you nearly fall to the floor as it comes to an abrupt halt. No voice announces the floor, but you hardly notice. The doors open, slowly, and you scramble out. “Guess I’ll take the stairs on the way back up,” you mutter absentmindedly, shaking your head.

You turn the corner to where the washers are. But there are no washers. The area seems much darker than usual, with more ominous noises than you're used to hearing. Steam rustles your hair as it whistles along the overhead pipes. Small piles of sand collect in the corners, which seems extremely odd. You leave your laundry bag by the elevator doors, beginning to explore.

There are several doors lined randomly along the metal walls, but most of them are locked when you try them. Eventually one of the handles turns, and you peek your head into what looks like a workshop. A jumble of nameless mechanical objects is spread across a rusted table. Tools—screwdrivers, saws, hammers, drills—spill out of a large container in the corner of the small room. Despite the disorder, it has a homely feel about it. Clearly, it's someone’s priceless sanctuary where they can tinker away in peace.

Strange thoughts fill your head as you wander into the room, leaving the door ajar. What exactly happened to the basement? Are they doing some new renovations? Had you really been that oblivious beforehand not to have noticed they were starting construction? You're only down here once a month for maybe half an hour, but you feel like you would remember mysterious sand and the addition of new winding corridors. You touch the items laid out on the table as you pass. _You know, this really reminds me of—_

 _ _“__ Halt! Identify yourself!”

You jump, banging your hand on the underside of the table’s surface. Two armored guards stand in the doorway. Fear settles into your stomach as you try to explain yourself. “I-I’m sorry, I was just trying to do my laundry and… things are a lot different than I remember them being… must be renovations going on…” You laugh nervously. “Can you show me where the laundry room is? I promise I won’t wander anymore.”

The guards exchange glances. “There’s no laundry room down here, miss. This part of the castle is strictly off-limits to the public. I’m afraid we’re going to have to escort you upstairs.”

Your mouth falls open. “Castle?”

One of them steps forward. “Her behavior is suspicious. She must be a spy!”

“And here I thought those days were over…” the other sighs.

“N-No, please, listen! I’m not a spy, I just want clean clothes!”

“Do you have any evidence to your claim?”

“Yeah! I can show you the elevator! That’s how I got down here!” The pair move to the side so you can rush to the elevator. Only when you get there, no doors greet you. Your clothes still sit against the wall, but the elevator has simply vanished. You stand staring at the wall for a time. “I… I don’t…”

The guards shuffle awkwardly. “Miss, please come with us. We’re going to need to retain you for questioning.”

You allow them to escort you up a dusty staircase, one holding your hands behind your back, the other carrying your laundry as though it's a dangerous explosive. You try to explain yourself through stuttering sentences, but they quiet you quickly. You bite your lip as they briefly speak to each other.

“What should we do with her? Take her to the dungeons?”

“We need to tell someone about her arrival before we jump to that.”

“Who? The chief guard?”

“No, this goes beyond his jurisdiction. We’ll take her to the king.”

 _The king?_ You swallow hard. _Where the frick am I?_

You walk up a few more flights of stairs, finally ending up in an entry hall. It's much more elegant than the basement you’d just been in; velvet carpet covers the stone floor, fresh flowers lining the walls in bright colors. A heavy chandelier casts bright light around the room. A large pair of double doors is set into the far wall, with a pair of identical guards standing watch. They eye you warily, but let you past without a word. On the other side is a long, wide room. Carpet covers here as well, with matching tapestries swaying from tall windows. At the far end of the room, a small set of stairs leads to two high-backed chairs. The one on the right is empty, but the one on the left holds a reclining man.

He doesn’t look particularly at home in the chair. He's elegant, that's for sure: blue armor coats his broad shoulders, intricate fabric weavings reaching down past his waist to his gold-tipped boots. A high collar fits snugly against his neck, blonde hair pulled back into a long ponytail, marked by a rich purple bow. A matching cape is tossed across one arm of the chair, his fingers tapping gently against the other. No, he doesn’t look at home because he seems almost bored. A distant look in his blue eyes tells you he’d rather be doing almost anything else besides sitting, rigid and proper, in that seat.

“King Edgar!” the guard holding you calls out, and a jolt runs through you. “So sorry to come in unannounced, but we have a bit of a situation.”

The king’s head immediately snaps up to full attention from the small group of people standing near him. He looks you over. “I’m listening,” he says without breaking his gaze.

“We found this maiden wandering the basements of the castle. She claims an ‘elevator’ took her here so she could do her laundry. We found her behavior suspicious and brought her straight to you for questioning.”

Edgar waves his hand. “Very well. Let her go so I can get a better look at our ‘perpetrator.’” The guard releases you, and you slowly and shakily walk up to the king, the group dispersing. He smiles softly, which catches you off-guard. “What’s your name?” he whispers.

“[Name],” you stutter, toying with the hem of your shirt. His smile widens. “That’s a nice name,” he says soothingly. “Is it short for anything?”

“[F-Full Name].” You avert your gaze from his, realization overtaking you. You are standing in Figaro Castle, in front of King Edgar Roni Figaro himself. You knew the castle design looked familiar. It's the exact one that filled your computer screen many times during your recent playthrough of VI. What started as a monotonous laundry errand has turned into a dimension-shattering journey. _Did I hit my head in the elevator, or am I really here right now?_

“So pretty…” He reaches out and lifts your head slowly with gentle fingers. You do little to stop him. “I’m not sure how you got here or if your story is completely true, but you don’t seem to want to hurt anyone. Am I right?”

You nod mutely. He strokes your cheek before withdrawing his hand. He addresses the guards. “She seems harmless to me. What of that basket you have?”

“This is her ‘laundry,’ sir,” one of them says. “We were worried it could be an explosive or some such…”

Edgar laughs musically. “I highly doubt it. Given this maiden’s pure face, I doubt she’d hardly hurt a fly. She must’ve just gotten lost on her way to the washer.” He stands, and seems to tower over you. “I can escort her there myself. This meeting was starting to irk me anyway.” He smooths his shirt out. “We can work out the finer details later, my good sirs,” he says to the group. “You know me—the needs of young damsels come first in my book.”

The group slowly shuffles out past the guards, who look unsure as to their king’s decision, but say nothing. Edgar breathes deeply, holding out a hand to you. “My lady?” You place your smaller one in his, and he seems to click his tongue. You both walk to the doors. “I’ll take that,” he says, reaching for your laundry. “You can return to your posts now; thank you for letting me know we have a visitor. I’ll take it from here.”

You walk in silence through the castle. You get some strange looks, but no one addresses you; you suppose Edgar walking through his castle hand-in-hand with a nameless girl isn’t that uncommon. Up some stairs and through a few corridors lead you to a small room. It holds a washer and dryer, and he takes your clothes and begins to sort and place them in to be washed. While he does this (you're horrified as he handles your underwear as though he does every day), he sits you in a nearby wooden chair and talks with you.

“Now, why don’t you tell me exactly what you were doing in the basement of my castle? It does seem like you were in need of a laundry room, but how did you enter undetected? And the _basement_ of all places! What a terrible first impression; you must think me to be some slob who has an obsession with machines. And you would be wrong—I am a _king_ who has an obsession with machines.”

You shuffle your feet, considering your options. You can be truthful, though he will hardly believe you. There's also the small matter of you knowing nearly everything there is to know about him and the world in which he lives, which will probably be unnerving for him. You sigh eventually and decide to just go for it.

“This is going to sound unbelievable, but I’ll just tell it to you straight. I live in a simple apartment building. I was going to the basement to do my laundry, but when I got out of the elevator I was in the basement of your castle instead. I was wandering around the rooms trying to figure out where I was when your guards found me. I tried to show them the elevator, but it was gone.”

“Fascinating.” He shakes out a pair of your jeans before tossing them into the washer. “So you come from another dimension? How intriguing…”

“You believe me?” You say in a small voice.

He looks up from the basket to smile at you. “My dear, I’ve been through so much over the past few years that a dimension-breaking elevator appearing in my basement seems nearly commonplace.” He chuckles to himself, gathering up a handful of your socks. “Yes, the world ending, a clown nearly destroying the human race as we know it… I quite welcome a pretty girl appearing in my castle unannounced in comparison to all that.”

 _ _ _ _“____ So Kefka’s been defeated already?” You hear yourself say before you can think.

He seems to choke, dropping a shirt on the floor. He composes himself and bends to pick it up. “…May I ask how you know his name?” He pauses to look at you.

You sigh again. “Here’s another thing that will be hard to believe. I… know all about this world. It’s told as a story where I’m from, one that a lot of people know and love, myself included. I actually just finished the game last week; it’s a video game—like, a game that you play with a controller on a screen.”

He considers this for a moment. “That’s more believable than you’d think. If you truly come from another dimension, it would make sense that some variation of tales from other worlds would reach you. But the format of a game for the story… who would’ve thought?”

You laugh nervously. “You’re taking this a lot better than I was expecting you to.”

He finishes with your clothes, closing the washer before switching it on. “I can hardly be expected not to believe such a beautiful girl. Why would you lie to me? I can tell your intentions are true; when you’ve been king as long as I have, you just sort of know these kinds of things.” He offers a wink.

You feel blush settle onto your cheeks. His every word is laced with flattery, and he's good at it. His dialogue had always amused you in VI, but sitting before him while he speaks them to you is a completely different story. You must admit, he looks quite handsome as he rinses his hands in the sink, brushing strands of blonde hair from his eyes.

“How long has it been since balance was restored?” You ask finally.

“Oh, I’d say about a year, year and a half. Things are mostly back to normal around here, but some places are still recovering heavily. I help where I can, of course, as is my kingly duty. That’s what that dreadful meeting was about before you so graciously interrupted. I don’t mean helping the needy is dreadful,” he says quickly. “I merely mean the negotiations are. I’d rather just jump in and do what I can, but they all insist paperwork and meetings be done.” He shrugs.

You giggle lightly at his words, and this seems to please him.

“Well, I suppose you’re stuck here until further notice. Good thing you’ll have clean clothes though, huh?” He winks again. “You are more than welcome to stay as long as you need to. We don’t get visitors too often around here, and it certainly helps to liven things up.”

“Thank you,” you say. You pause, looking to the floor. “…And thank you for believing me. And for doing my laundry.”

He laughs again. “’Twas a pleasure, my dear. If there is anything else you require, you need only ask. I must take my leave now; I’m afraid other kingly matters require my attention. But you are free to roam as you please.” He takes one of your hands in his and gently brushes his lips against your knuckles. “It was very nice to meet you, [Name]. I certainly hope ours can be a lasting friendship.”

“Same to you, King Edgar,” you say breathlessly. He scoffs. “Please, just call me Edgar. No need for formalities, _[Full Name]._ ” He winks once more, and you can’t help but smile.


	2. The Other Twin

The day is hot, but it feels nice to be at the uppermost part of the castle, where a light breeze ruffles your clothes. You're sitting in an alcove at the top of one of the spires, savoring the view of the vast desert around you. You've enjoyed a light meal in the dining area, and your stomach is full, making you sleepy. Your arm rests on the edge of the wall, your head nestled into your elbow as you sigh. If you're really going to be stuck here for who knows how long, you think you can learn to enjoy it. Maybe Edgar can show you how the castle submerges, and you can take a trip to Kohlingen… maybe you can meet up with Setzer and ride in the Falcon… or visit the Opera House or Doma or Narshe…

“BOO!”

You nearly fall over the wall as a loud shout behind you interrupts your daydream. Laughter fills your ears as you struggle to a sitting position. Standing over you is a tall, muscular man. His face is the same as Edgar’s, but more worn, as though he's spent many days out in the elements. His blonde hair is shorter, but still pulled back into a small ponytail. His baggy white pants rustle in the breeze as he crosses his bare arms over a tight shirt. Despite his stature, his eyes are friendly, and he gives you a wide smile.

“Sorry, but I couldn’t resist startling you. Are you one of Edgar’s friends?” he asks.

“Oh, Sabin, hello,” you say after a moment of regaining yourself. “It’s kind of a long story.”

He looks confused. “Well, you must be a friend, because you know my name! Who are you?” He kneels next to you.

You tell him how you appeared in the castle basement, how his twin brother deemed you harmless and did your laundry. He listens intently, and once you're finished he offers another smile. “What a wild journey! Well, welcome to the castle. I’m excited you’ll be around for a bit; I can show you all the secrets if you want.” He looks thoughtful. “Unless you already know all the secrets? You know, since you know all about our stories and such.”

“Oh, no, the game didn’t go into all that much detail about layout. I’m sure there’s much I haven’t seen,” you say excitedly.

He grins. “Sounds like we’ve got some spelunking to do. But first…” He jumps to his feet. “You gotta answer one trivia question to pass! What is my favorite nut?”

You giggle. “That’s easy! Walnuts!”

“Hey, you’re good!” He holds out a hand and pulls you up with a surprising amount of strength. “Maybe you can tell me some secrets about my brother!”

For the rest of the afternoon, you and Sabin run all over Figaro Castle. He shows you the hiding places he used for hide-and-seek when he was a kid, where the kitchen storerooms are, and even a peek inside Edgar’s personal office. “He rarely uses it,” he whispers to you. “When he does, it’s only to show off for girls.” You snicker.

Eventually your wanderings lead you to the courtyard where the sun is setting, casting beautiful hues across the sky. Sabin is giving you a piggy-back ride, and you're singing the chocobo theme. You haven't had this much fun in a long time; Sabin is a huge sweetheart, and he reminds you of your brothers who you haven’t seen in years. You miss hanging out with them, and getting to run around and be silly with Sabin brings back happy memories.

“Well now, did someone let a pack of wild antlions loose in my castle?”

Sabin stops abruptly and you nearly topple from his shoulders. Edgar is standing before you, a knowing smile on his face. “I see you’ve met my brother,” he says calmly. “I hope he didn’t force you to do anything too ridiculous.”

“We’ve been having a great time,” Sabin counters playfully. “Sorry you were too busy doing _king stuff_ to play with us.”

Edgar scoffs, but you can see the mirth in his eyes. “I was looking for [Name]. I’ve had a fine meal prepared, and I wanted to invite her to dine with me.”

“I’d be honored to,” you say, climbing down from Sabin and dusting yourself off. “Is it okay if…?”

“You may wash up, certainly,” Edgar finishes for you. He looks to his twin. “All jokes aside, thank you for looking after her for me. Would that I could put all obligations on hold to properly spoil our guest. Alas, being king waits for no man.” He shrugs dramatically, holding his hand out to you. “Regardless, I’ll show you to your room so you can change at your leisure. I’ve had your fresh laundry delivered there already.”

You take his hand, and Sabin chuckles. “Don’t fall for his suaveness too hard, [Name],” he chides jokingly. “I can beat him up for you if you ever need it.”

“That will hardly be necessary,” Edgar winks. “Until next time, Brother.”

Sabin waves as you and Edgar walk back inside the castle. “He can be a bit of a handful at times, I’m afraid,” Edgar remarks. “But I love him all the same. He’s a wonderful sibling and acts as a great guard dog for the castle. I tell him to suplex anyone who comes to the door past midnight.”

“He reminds me of my brothers,” you say distantly. “We used to have lots of fun together when we were younger.”

He seems to relax when you say this; you hadn't noticed how tense he was. “Your brothers, huh? I suppose we both relate to brotherly love then, don’t we?” He chuckles.

After climbing some stairs, you stop at a door halfway down the hall. Inside is a clean bedroom, sheets recently fluffed. In the corner is your laundry basket, clothing neatly folded. “Here we are,” he says. “When you’re ready for dinner, simply walk down these stairs and one of the servants will escort you to the dining room.” He bows gracefully. “I look forward to seeing you there.”

You spend way too long fretting over what to wear, which is something you never do. You scowl at your jeans and graphic tees; nothing seems formal enough for dinner with the king. Eventually you decide on a flowy striped shirt and your nicest pair of pants. You brush your hair with a comb found in the attached bathroom, trying to steel yourself in the mirror. “It’s just dinner, [Name],” you tell yourself. “Remember what Sabin said—I need to be careful not to let my guard down.” You nod resolutely. “Okay, I’m ready.”


	3. Dinner and a Dance

“My lady, King Edgar awaits your arrival.”

A manservant dressed in a slick suit escorts you down another hallway through a pair of sliding doors. On the other side is a lavish dining room. Portraits of prim and proper people line the polished walls, torches casting a warm glow. The table is far too long for the number of chairs seated around it; there are only two, facing one another, with Edgar sitting in the far one. He smiles warmly, and you do the same. The servant pulls your chair out for you, and you sit rigidly.

You run a hand through your hair, looking everywhere but at the king. His outfit isn’t any different, but there's something about him—the way he's sitting, perhaps—that makes him seem much more intimidating than before. “I’m sorry I didn’t have anything more formal to put on…” You trail off, glancing over the sparkling plates and bright silverware before you.

“You look lovely,” he murmurs. “I think a more casual look suits you very well. Though I’m sure a dress would look just as good; you could pull off any outfit, my dear.” You feel your cheeks redden at his flattery.

The servant reappears with a cart of food. Everything looks amazing; roast chicken, potatoes, and various types of bread make your stomach whine knowingly. As you divide the portions amongst yourselves, Edgar reaches for a large glass bottle on the table and holds it out to you.

“Oh, no, thank you,” you say quickly. “I don’t drink.”

He laughs. “Don’t worry, it’s just grape juice. I merely enjoy pouring it from a bottle because it looks more posh.” He fills your glass when you accept.

The food is delicious, and you eat more than you probably should. Edgar keeps you talking, and you find yourself laughing at all his jokes, much to his apparent delight. He's so smooth; you can’t stop yourself from reacting to every little thing. Sabin’s warning seems like a distant memory. Eventually the plates are cleared and dessert is brought out: a large layered cake. It's all chocolate, and it sits richly in your stomach, which is quite content by this point. Your eyes droop as you suck on your fork absentmindedly.

Edgar stretches, bringing you back to your senses. “I sincerely hope your meal was to your liking,” he says. “Though it seems you are still quite enjoying it.” He winks.

You put the fork down, embarrassed. “Yes, everything was amazing. Thank you so much, Edgar.” You wipe at your mouth for the umpteenth time, painfully aware of how dry it is. “I’m sorry if I seem a little spaced; I guess I’m just tired after everything that’s happened today.” In reality, his presence seems to make your usual behaviors sputter and falter.

“That would only seem natural. You’ve been through a lot. If you’re ready to retire for the evening, I completely understand. However...” He straightens in his seat. “If you’re feeling up for it, I had one more activity planned for this evening.”

You feel a quiver run through you. “What would that be?”

He smiles coyly. “You see, I’ve recently been learning to ball-dance. I have such a large ballroom, it seemed like such a waste if I didn’t know how to properly dance myself. You look as though you are light on your feet, if your gallivanting with Sabin is any indication. Would you care to dance with me?”

“O-oh, I’m not too great of a dancer.” You laugh nervously. “I usually just jump around like an idiot. I rarely slow dance.”

He seems rather pleased. “Then we’ll both be inexperienced. Would you try? For me?”

You rub the back of your neck, sighing. “Sure, why not? As long as you don’t tease me for making mistakes.” You give him a playful look.

“Me? Tease a lady on her ability? Never!” He returns your look. “You have my word.”

With that, he leads you to a large, nearly empty space directly above the dining room. The lights are dim, and you appear to be the only ones there. When he gives a signal, soft, enchanting music begins to play. He holds firmly to your hand, and you shakily place the other on his shoulder. His slides down to your waist as you begin a slow waltz. You're mindful of your feet at first, fearful of messing up, but after some time you begin to feel more comfortable. The music picks up a bit, and he takes many daring opportunities. You find yourself twirling as you never have before, and you enjoy every moment of it. You laugh as he lifts you as you spin, and it's an amazing feeling.

“I thought you told me you weren’t a good dancer?” he says, panting slightly. “You’ve been performing admirably. I am honored to have a partner as graceful as you.”

An embarrassed but pleased noise leaves your mouth, the tempo of your steps never breaking. “You’re not half bad yourself. I think we make a good team.”

A grin stretches his face at your words. “I couldn’t agree more, my dear.”

You dance a while longer before you grow exhausted. The weight of all that's happened suddenly falls on you, hard, and it becomes difficult to stand. Your steps slow as you realize you're leaning forward. You rest your head on his shoulder, nearly falling on top of him. He catches you, balancing your weight against his. “Oh dear,” he says softly. “It seems I’ve tired you out.”

“Goodness, I’m so sorry,” you stutter, trying to lift yourself. But he holds you there, gently but firmly. “Don’t apologize,” he murmurs. “Clearly you need to rest. Let’s get you to bed.”

Before you can object, he reaches down and lifts you, bridal style, and begins a rhythmic walk towards your room. The whole way there he softly hums a pleasant tune, and it's almost enough to lull you to sleep in his arms. You feels yourself nestle into the crook of his elbow, and he caresses you gently. Once you reach the door, he walks in slowly and gingerly places you on the bed.

“Sleep well, my lovely,” he whispers. “I enjoyed every moment of today immensely. I hope the same can be said for you.” Your eyes are closed, but you feel a light kiss against your forehead. “Rest easy,” he says nearly inaudibly.

Once he leaves the room you undress and blindly crawl beneath the sheets, falling asleep almost instantly, still feeling his warmth against you.


	4. The Workings of a King

The morning comes on bright and clear. Sunlight spills across the blanket as you hazily awaken. Events from the previous day come racing back to you, and you half-expect to be laying in your bed back at your own apartment. It _had_ to have been a dream… right?

Wrong. You sit up in the grand bed of the guest room in Figaro Castle, snugly wrapped in crisp sheets. On the table is a red rose, freshly cut it seems, and a folded slip of paper. Blinking against the light coming in from the windows, you reach for the paper. In purple ink a letter's been written, the handwriting absolutely stunning.

_My dearest [Name],_

_I trust you are well-rested. Feel free to arise at your leisure. I have some duties to attend to this morning, but after my obligations have been met it would be my pleasure to accompany you to one of the surrounding cities. Have you ever wondered how the castle works? I’d be more than happy to show you myself._

_You will find breakfast waiting for you in the dining room. Again, I hope you are feeling better today. If there’s anything that you need, please don’t hesitate to ask._

_Edgar_

You pluck the rose from the table, admiring its scent. You're surprised fresh flowers can be found at Figaro; Edgar must have a garden somewhere. Rising from the bed, you find yourself once again fretting over what to wear. If Edgar really wants to take you to Kohlingen, you want to look your best. Before you change, you decide to take a shower. Once clean, you choose shorts this time, since the heat is so intense. You gloss over your shirts, picking something flowery. Hair brushed and satisfied with your appearance, you descend to the dining room.

Breakfast is indeed delicious; a charming servant waits on you with various rolls, eggs, and great slabs of bacon. Thoroughly stuffed, you stumble from the room out into the bright sunshine. It's indeed hot, and you try to decide what you want to do with your morning. You resolve to try and find Sabin; he's always fun to be around. Eventually you find him out on one of the battlements, practicing his monk abilities.

“[Name]!” He offers you a wide grin as he continues throwing punches and kicks into the air. “Lovely morning, isn’t it?”

You nod. “Is it okay if I come and watch you train?”

“Sure! I can show you all my best moves!” He puffs out his chest, which glistens with sweat in the rising sunlight. You make yourself comfortable on the stone as he proceeds to show off for you. You name each of his moves as he performs them: pummel, aurabolt, fire dance, air blade… for suplex he demonstrates on you, with your permission, slowly and gently. You laugh the entire time, as he's making loud, exaggerated explosions sounds.

Afterwards you sit still for a moment while he catches his breath. He wipes his forehead, shaking out his short hair. “I thought you’d be hanging out with my brother today. Is he busy?”

“Yeah, he said he has ‘obligations’ this morning. But this afternoon he wants to take me to Kohlingen…” You stare dreamily out at the sandy landscape, already looking forward to the lush grass and bright cobblestone paths of the city.

His eyes light up. “I wonder if he’d let me come with you. It’s been a long time since I've been to the city. You can only handle so much desert before you need a break.”

“Agreed.” You stand up. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you coming.”

“Unless it’s a _date_ ,” he says gushingly, and you wave him off, though your face flushes.

You wander back inside the castle, where he takes his leave to go wash off. You spend the remainder of the morning walking up and down long corridors, admiring the tapestries. They're all of different people and events; you guess them to be previous leaders of Figaro. One in particular catches your attention. It depicts a tall man, brandishing a longsword, fighting off a large antlion.

“Admiring my late father, are we?”

You jump and turn around. Edgar stands behind you, smiling. “This is your father?” you say, intrigued.

He nods, putting a hand on your shoulder and guiding you to look back at the tapestry. “Yes, this was done just after his untimely death. You see, each tapestry is woven after a leader has passed on. That’s why there isn’t one of yours truly yet.” He chortles. “The tapestries depict the most influential event in the ruler’s life. My father saved the castle from a horde of antlions one fateful day, fighting without stopping for hours straight. Sabin and I were but lads…” You look up at him and his eyes are closed in solemnity.

He suddenly opens them again, his smile returning. “Ah, but let us move on from the past. A bright future remains just on the horizon, no?” He takes your hand with a flourish. “Are you ready to visit Kohlingen?”

You nod eagerly. “And you can show me how the castle submerges?”

“It would be my honor. After all, that’s what Figaro is famous for! So much easier than walking all the way across that dreadful desert.” He tosses his head dramatically, offering you a wink. “Let us away then.”

On your way to the control room, he stops to speak with the head of the guard. “We will be traveling for the afternoon. Please let everyone know to be ready.” The guard bows respectfully before scurrying off.

You descend to the basement, where your journey first began. That seems like so long ago. Edgar’s cape rustles in the steam from the pipes as he stops in front of a control box set into the wall. The guard nearby bows deeply. “Would you like to travel, my king?”

“Yes. I want to show my dear guest how our beloved castle works.” He nods. “Take us to Kohlingen.”

The guard salutes before opening the heavy covering to the control box. Inside are dozens of switches and buttons, and with a flurry of pushes and flips, loud grinding surrounds you. A siren sounds, but it doesn’t sound sinister; merely informative. The ground begins to shake, and your footing becomes uncertain. Edgar pulls you against him to help keep your balance. You've never realized how good he smells. There's an underlying note of metallic and grease, which makes sense, given his hobbies. Over top this, however, is the scent of lavender with a hint of… mint? You suppose he tries to cover up his less-than-spotless endeavors of machinery tinkering with fairer smells. And somehow it works.

“Don’t worry, it’ll even out soon,” he says above the grinding and shaking. “You get used to it after a while.” Sure enough, the shaking lessens, and you're able to regain your balance. He leads you back to the main level, where guardsmen and servants are standing idly. Obviously, no one's allowed outside until the castle surfaces again. They all bow as he passes.

“How long does it take to get there?” you ask.

“Not too long; less than an hour? Come, I have something we can do while we wait.” You walk out into one of the corridors. “I wanted to show you my workspace.”

He stops by the door Sabin allowed you a peek in the day before. Opening it, he bows courteously and allows you to enter first. It's a modest room, with a large desk and fireplace. Papers are neatly stacked in piles, and everything is very orderly.

He looks as though he's waiting for you to say something. You clear your throat, smiling innocently. “Sabin told me you never use this office, that you only show it off to girls.”

His face turns bright red, which is quite adorable. “W-well, I assure you… I do plenty of work in here… Leave it to Sabin…” He trails off in a grumble, rubbing the back of his neck.

You can’t help but giggle. “I’d be much more interested in seeing your _other_ office… the one in the basement.”

Surprise crosses his face. “Are you sure that would interest you?”

You nod. “I’d love to see your skills with machinery.”

This seems to please him, and he leads you back down the staircase. You enter the same room you stumbled into the first day, and nothing seems much different: cogs and springs still lie out on the table, and tools are still spilling out of a box in the corner. He laughs nervously. “I’m sorry, I haven’t had much time to clean up recently. I don’t get many visitors down here…”

“It’s okay, it shows how much you actually use it. I appreciate that.” You give him another smile.

He still looks sheepish, but has a certain confidence in his steps afterwards. He gives you a little tour, showing you his tools and naming them and their functions. He then goes to the main table, clearing off a space. “What would you like to see me work on?”

You look around the room, walking along the table. At the edge of the pile of workings is a silver pocket watch. You pick it up. It doesn’t appear to be ticking. “Can you fix this watch?”

He scoffs as if you’d just asked him to add two and two. “’Can I fix it,’ she asks.” He grabs it up with a flourish when you hold it out to him. “Time me.”

You try to keep track as he goes to work. He unscrews the back with a tiny screwdriver, beginning his meticulous task. Deft fingers with years of experience fly across the inner pieces, adjusting the minuscule gears to their proper places. You're fascinated; the fact that he can comprehend what each of the seemingly identical parts do and what needs to be altered is amazing to you. You lean in close, afraid to blink for fear you might miss something. The room is silent besides the rumbling of the castle and the soft _tink, tink_ of his screwdriver.

After some time he wipes his forehead, more for show than anything, and closes the timepiece. He holds it up to your ear, and a faint _tick_ can be heard. He's smirking. “How’d I do?”

You're speechless. You take the watch from him, staring at the now functioning hands. “Amazing. You did amazing.”

“You can keep that if you’d like. I’m sure it’d look great on you.” He looks around the room. “Ah, it appears we’ve arrived at Kohlingen.”

It's true; the rumbling's ceased. You hang the pocket watch around your neck and allow him to lead you back upstairs. The guards and servants are back at their normal posts. One by the door bows to you. “Welcome to Kohlingen, my liege.”

“Thank you. We will be back later.” Edgar squeezes your hand. “We’ve some business to attend to.”

“Wait!”

You turn around to see Sabin running up to you. He stops, panting. “Can I come with you?”

You see a streak of annoyance briefly cross Edgar’s face before it dissipates. “I suppose so, my brother. May I ask why?”

“I haven’t been to the city in ages! And plus, [Name] is cool.” Sabin grins. “I wanna hang out with you guys.”

Edgar shrugs dramatically. “What do you think, [Name]? Should we allow this bear to accompany us?”

“I don’t see why not,” you say. You're not sure that's the answer he's looking for. You don’t want to leave Sabin behind, though; to be honest, you want to enjoy both of their company. You love them both in different ways, for different reasons.

“Then it’s settled. You can come with us.” Edgar allows the smile to return to his face.

Sabin looks thrilled, and it makes you happy. The three of you step out into the sunlight. The city is just a short way off, and you walk between the two twins. Edgar still holds firmly to your hand, as though he's marking his territory. You don’t mind his possessiveness, honestly; a boy's never been that adamant about protecting his relationship with you before. Sabin either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. He still talks animatedly with you about the nearby mountains and how nice the breeze feels. Edgar chimes in every now and then, and you're just happy to be in their welcome company.


	5. Kohlingen

“Can we stop for lunch?”

“Yes, of course. My treat.”

Sabin does an air fist pump at his brother’s words, and you giggle. You've reached Kohlingen, and it's a lovely little town. Green grasses coat the ground, flowers dotting the bushes. Everything seems to have grown back since the previous calamity. Thatched houses and stores line the cobblestone pathways, and everything has a homey feel about it. A small child runs past, chasing a scruffy dog. Your face must be one of pure delight, because you hear Edgar chuckle. “It seems as though city life suits you rather well.”

“Everything is just so… perfect,” you say distantly. “It’s very pleasant.”

“Full glad am I to hear it. Now, where would you like to eat, my dear?”

You snap back from your hazy daydreaming and catch whiff of something delicious. You're walking down a street lined with vendors, and after some time you pick one out. Edgar pays for you and Sabin, though the vendor refuses to let Edgar pay for himself; he is the king, after all. You find a shaded table nearby to enjoy your meal.

Sabin scarfs down his food: lots of chicken and potatoes. Yours is similar, though you don’t eat nearly as quickly as he does. You suppose monks need a lot of nourishment to sustain themselves. Edgar eats daintily, a folded napkin tucked into his collar. It's quite adorable. You half expect him to be glancing around at the various women walking along the market stalls, perhaps standing up to engage with them, but he stays put. His eyes remain fixated on one spot—you. Every time you look up from your plate, he furtively shifts his gaze behind you or downwards, but you know where he was watching previously.

You don’t know what to think of this. You know him to be a terrible flirt, and Sabin has even warned you to be wary of his brother’s advances. But as you sit there, watching him suck cider gently through a paper straw and pretend he's looking everywhere but at you when there are plenty of prettier girls nearby, you feel like something is different. _Perhaps maybe… but he couldn’t possibly… I mean,_ me _of all people…_

“Hey, are you gonna eat that?”

Sabin’s muffled question interrupts your thoughts as he speaks with a full mouth. He's pointing at your last piece of chicken, which lies neglected at the edge of your plate. You slide it onto his platter. “All yours.”

He grins and Edgar rolls his eyes. “When you’re done gorging yourself, dear brother, perhaps we can see the rest of the city. Maybe do some shopping?” He winks at you.

You shuffle your feet under the table. “I’d love to, but I don’t have any money… Well, not any currency that would be accepted here…”

He reaches over the table and grasps your hand. He looks you straight in the eyes. “It would be my honor to pay for whatever you would like.”

You can’t help but smile at his sincerity. “As long as you’re sure.”

He squeezes your hand in response. Once you've finished eating, you rise and wander around the small town. The markets hold some remarkable items—pinwheels, crystalline armor, golden swords—you name it, they have it. You aren’t interested in the fancy things, though. No, what catches your eye is a shabby stall run by a small girl. Her clothing is worn and there are holes in her shoes. A sign next to her, in handwriting too legible to be her own, reads, _Plushies for sale—Handmade_. Clearly, the end of the world hasn't been kind to some.

You kneel down to look at the stuffed toys. They're all very well-made; the details are impressive. From the pile, one calls out to you. It's a moogle, with black button eyes. You're charmed by its sack doll body and droopy pom. “Do you make these?” you ask the little girl.

She shakes her head. “My mama does,” she says quietly. “She hasta work the farm during the day, so I haveta sell them.”

“You’re very helpful to do that,” you say sweetly. “I’d love to buy one.” You look around; Edgar is a ways off, admiring some shiny tools at a nearby stall. You call to him and he comes over immediately.

You hold the moogle out to him. “Can I get this?”

He looks confused. “Are you sure? There’s lots of hairpins and dresses that would look lovely on you just over there…” His eyes travel to the little girl and realization washes over him slowly.

“Yes, I’m sure. Look how cute it is!” You wave it in his face, and he laughs. “You’re right, it’s adorable. Of course you can have it.” He kneels next to the girl. “How much do I owe you, little one?”

She points to the sign, where _25 Gil_ is written underneath the large letters. “Sorry, I can’t count,” she mumbles.

“No worries, my dear. You are very brave to be running your own business.” Edgar places the coins in her small hand. He looks to you, a twinkle in his eye. “Let’s get one for Sabin, too.”

You beam, and he lets you choose. You pick a fluffy chocobo, and he duly pays for that one as well. The little girl is ecstatic. “Thank you,” she squeaks, a smile stretching her thin face. She looks up at Edgar, who's risen to full height. “Is she your girlfriend?”

Your face turns red, but he plays it cool. “No, I’m afraid she merely remains my friend who happens to be a girl.” He shrugs dramatically, and the girl shrieks with amusement. You then take your leave, with Edgar pausing to purchase a glossy drill. He gives you a sheepish grin as he stuffs it in a bag. “It’ll be our secret, okay?” He places a finger to his lips, and you stifle a laugh.

Sabin is overjoyed with your gift for him, and you spend the next five minutes having a death battle with your plushes on Edgar’s shoulder guards while he sits and looks through his wallet. Sabin bought some new gloves, and they look slick on his hands as he flexes his fingers for you.

“Well, I’d call this afternoon a success,” Edgar remarks, watching his brother run amok next to the lake, scaring away the birds with his enthusiasm. You sit next to the king, cradling your moogle and feeling content. You yawn, suddenly tired. The sun is beginning to lower, and you find yourself leaning against him, enjoying his sturdiness. You feel him chuckle slightly, moving to drape his cape over your shoulder. “Have I worn you out yet again?”

“Perhaps,” you say quietly. Sabin is now quite some distance from where you're sitting, and you decide to take an opportunity. “Edgar, I… I noticed something today.”

“What would that be, my sweet?” He places an arm over your back.

You watch his twin continue to terrorize the birds on the other side of the lake. “Well, I know how much you like to admire women, but I didn’t see you look at any today… other than me, that is. I was just wondering; do I really captivate your attention so much that you would only notice me?”

You feel him shift at your words. He clears his throat. “If you would like a truthful answer, I’ll give it to you. I’ve been captivated by you since the moment I saw you in my throne room. Your purity and truthfulness, the way you get along so well with Sabin and everyone else… you’ve blown all expectations I’ve ever had for women. Though there may be those who are more glamorous than you, you have qualities others never will. That was confirmed to me today, when instead of begging me for crystal armor, you wanted a small plush instead.”

Your heart thumps as he speaks. So you _weren’t_ imagining it. He really is only interested in you at this moment. You never thought you'd ever see the day Edgar Figaro was only interested in one woman. But maybe he's finally ready to settle down; after all, it's been over a year since the world's restoration, and he's still ruling by himself. Maybe he's ready to find himself a queen. And you…?

“Besides,” he continues, looking down at you and smiling softly. “You’ve responded so well to my advances, would you not agree? I find your giggles so pleasing to hear, and you offer them so willingly.” He moves his hand to stroke your cheek. “No woman has ever been as keen as you have; sometimes my words bounce right off their gaudy dresses. But for you, they’ve sunk right in, and I couldn’t be happier.”

“Neither could I,” you hear yourself say. His deep eyes are captivating to you, and you can’t break your gaze. “I’m honored you find me so fascinating.”

“Then we are the same,” he murmurs. He lifts your head level with his, and you're just inches apart. You want so badly to close the distance, but you're afraid; of what, you don’t know.

“May I…?” he says nearly inaudibly. His lips barely brush you.

“Please,” you whine, just as quietly.

His mouth closes over yours, and it's a surreal experience. He's soft, and feels gentle against you. His taste is sweet, and it's nearly intoxicating to your senses. You move to place a hand on his far shoulder, and he leans you back to let his own hand slide down your side. You let out a small noise, and he seems to smile; or rather, smirk. You kiss for quite some time, neither of you wanting to break it. Eventually your need for breath forces you apart, and as you sit there, panting, staring at the king you just made out with, you feel emotions wash over you that you've never known before, and _goodness_ do you want more.

You're considering leaning in again for another round when sudden, loud whistling and laughter assaults you. You practically jump apart as Sabin looms over you, mirth in his eyes. “Edgar and [Name], sitting in a tree,” he sings, holding his chocobo up to dance. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

“ _Sabin!_ ” Edgar hisses, his face bright red. Sabin just laughs some more. “I told you to be careful around him, [Name]. And yet, I walk away for one minute and you’re _kissing_ him!” He shakes his head theatrically. “I get it, though. Edgar’s a great man. He can get a bit carried away sometimes, but he has a good heart and I’m proud to be his twin.” He stands up tall and put his hands on his waist. “Just promise me you’ll take good care of her, Edgar!”

Edgar remains in silenced awe for a time. He then composes himself, and returns his brother’s grin. “You have my word, Brother. I will.”

Sabin winks at you, and you giggle. You and Edgar stand up, and you begin to make your way back to the castle. Edgar’s grip on your hand is less demanding this time, and more gentle. He even lets Sabin give you a piggy-back ride for half the journey, and laughs along with you. You sleep well that night, your dreams filled with their images.


	6. Disasters and Walnuts

The next morning comes on as bright and clear as the previous day. There's no note or rose waiting for you when you wake, but it doesn’t bother you much. Edgar probably doesn't want to seem excessive. Your routine is similar to the day before: shower, fret over what to wear, big breakfast. You haven’t received instructions from the king on what to look forward to that day, so you decide to do something spontaneous.

“What’s King Edgar’s favorite food?” you ask the servant as he clears away your breakfast plate.

“Oh, he really enjoys pasta. All kinds. I’ve never seen anyone eat noodles as daintily as he does, to be honest.” He chuckles as he wipes the table.

“Do you think I could help make lunch for him this afternoon? I’d love to make his favorite food, to show how grateful I am for how much he’s done for me.”

The servant looks surprised. “Are you sure, my lady? We’d hate to see you have to work so much if you don’t have to…”

You shake your head. “No, I want to. It would be my pleasure.”

He smiles. “So be it. We’d love your assistance. Just tell us what you’d like to make and we’ll get started as soon as you want.”

The rest of the morning involves you learning how to make various forms of pasta. You have a lot of fun; cooking isn’t much of your forte usually, but the chefs are kind and let you help to the best of your ability. They tell you stories of Edgar, how he has a huge sweet tooth and also dabbles in cooking himself sometimes. You daydream of baking with him while the noodles boil—layering big extravagant cakes, with him whisking frothy batter as he smiles at you, frosting on his nose…

Once everything's done, you skip off to find the king. You've been told he had more meetings this morning, so you go to the throne room to see if he's done. You pause in the hall to peer at your reflection in a flowerpot, trying to make sure your hair looks okay.

“Oh Edgar, you’re such a tease!”

High-pitched laughter hits your ears, startling you. You duck down behind the table as the throne room doors open. The king is talking with a glamorous woman wearing way too much makeup. She giggles as he bows to her.

“It is always an honor to host you, my lady.” He reaches for her hand and kisses it gently. She bats her eyelashes at him. “Perhaps you could come again soon, and we could chat more.”

“I would _love_ that, my king.” She giggles again. “I will await your invitation eagerly.”

“Come, I will show you out of the castle.” He grasps her hand elegantly and leads her down the hall and out of sight.

You want to scream. You want to puke. You want to overturn the table you shakily stand up from behind. Your stomach twists in knots, hand closing over the silver watch he gave you. _I thought… didn’t he say he cared for me more than anyone? Didn’t he tell me I’d captivated him? That he found… he only had eyes for me?_

You don’t know if you're sad or angry. At this moment though, sadness is winning. Tears swim in your eyes as you run from the room. You completely forget about lunch and instead find yourself in the castle courtyard. You need somewhere to sit and be alone. You stumble into a corner that looks secluded enough, but someone's beaten you to the punch.

“[Name]!” Sabin is lounging in the shade nearby. He takes in your frazzled form and concern fills his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Your facade shatters and you sink to your knees, blubbering. He holds out his arms and you fall into his lap, wrapping your arms around him. He hugs you tight as you heave. His solid form is comforting, and you cry into his chest for a good while. He rubs your back gently, letting your sobs fade before speaking.

“What happened? Who do I need to beat up?”

You wipe your eyes, sitting up on his leg. “I… It’s… Y-Your brother…” you hiccup.

His eyes go wide before narrowing. “My brother, huh? Oh, no… I really hoped this wouldn’t happen…”

“I know you tried to w-warn me about him.” Your swollen eyes look to the ground. “And I should have listened.”

“[Name]…” You've never heard him so somber before. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

You stutter out something about the posh girl that sucked up to Edgar, and how he took the bait willingly. Sabin sighs as you curl up against him again, the tears returning. He rocks gently as he speaks.

“Edgar can be difficult at times. He’s a great man, and he means well, but he just can’t help himself when it comes to women. It’s _always_ been like this, ever since I can really remember. Even when we were really little he’d grow flowers for girls who came to the castle with their parents for business meetings. I’d call it a bad habit, more than anything. When you showed up, however, I really thought he’d decided to change his ways. He really does look at you differently, [Name]. I’ve known him my whole life, and I might not be as sharp as some, but I can tell when something’s changed. And the way he treats you is very high, even by his standards.”

“Then _why_ was he sucking up to that girl?” You hide your face in his shirt again, which is damp from your tears.

He sighs again. “I wish I knew. He better get his act together if he wants to be with you, though. You deserve the best, and if he’s going to mess around like this then he won’t stand a chance.”

You peek up at him. “Thanks for caring so much, Sabin. It really means a lot.”

He smiles. “Of course! I’ve always wanted a sister, and you’re wonderful to be around.” He nuzzles your neck briefly, and you giggle. “I really hope things work out with you and Edgar, though. He might just need some time to adjust and fix his behavior, and stuff like that doesn’t happen overnight.”

You nod slowly, sitting up again. “You’re probably right. I want things to work out too.” Your eyes trail to the ground again. You futz with the pocket watch. “I’m still upset though.”

“And rightly so.” He reaches beside you and rummages through a small bag, beginning to munch on something. “Would you like some walnuts in the meantime?”

Your stomach flips. “Oh, no, thank you; I’m allergic, actually.”

His eyes widen. “Uh-oh, you should have told me that. I was eating a bunch before you got here.”

“Frick.” You look down at your arms, expecting to see rashes forming. Thankfully, most of the contact with Sabin’s hands has been on fabric, and you don’t feel anywhere that itches. “I should probably go change my clothes. I need to wash up, anyway. I look like a mess.”

“I’m sorry!” he says sheepishly.

“Sorry for what?”

You both look up. Edgar is strolling towards you. Your stomach clenches as he gives you a strange look. “What are you two doing?”

“None of your business,” Sabin jeers. You appreciate his defense on your part.

You see Edgar’s mouth tighten as he glances you over. His gaze lingers just below your chin, and his expression changes to a mix of shock and disgust. “Oh, I see _exactly_ what’s going on here.” One of his hands curls into a fist.

“What are you talking about?” you ask, genuinely confused. “We’ve just been talking, that’s all.”

“’Just talking.’” He grits his teeth. “That mark on your neck says otherwise!”

Your hand flies to your throat, landing on a rough patch. Realization hits you. When Sabin playfully nuzzled you, your skin reacted to the walnuts he’d been eating, leaving a red rash. Edgar thinks it's a hickey. He thinks you're cheating on him with his brother.

You decide to let him think that.

You cling to Sabin’s arm. “Why does it matter?! You’re off chatting up girls behind my back, so maybe I wanted to be with Sabin instead!” Your lips quiver as your vision blurs. “You don’t care about me!”

Edgar’s face jumps between anger and anguish. “That’s not…!” His eyes dart back and forth between you two. “I care about you, but now I don’t know if I can trust you.”

“I don’t think I can trust you either!” Emotions overtake your judgement as you stand from Sabin’s lap. “You’re nothing but a flirt, and that’s all you’ll ever be!” Ripping the timepiece from your neck, you shove it into his hands as you push past and run back into the castle. Both twins call after you, but you don’t stop until you reach your room, where you flop down on the bed and cry some more. You cry and cry until exhaustion overtakes you, and you fall into an uneasy sleep.


	7. Propositions

You have strange dreams. Edgar's standing waist-deep in a cake, yelling at Sabin, who's sprinkling walnuts around him and singing the Wedding March. You wake suddenly, groaning at the dull ache in your head. Memories of the previous hours crash over you, and you feel horrible. You used Sabin to make Edgar angry, even after you talked through things. You tell yourself you're the worst, and you're convinced they both think that too. Maybe it's time for you to find that elevator in the basement again so you can leave this world you don’t belong in…

You sit up, rubbing your forehead. It's late afternoon, and red streaks blaze across the sky as the sun lowers over the sandy horizon. You stumble into the bathroom to change and wash up, trying to decide what you want to do. You can’t run away; you have to fix this. Even if you and Edgar don’t work out, you still want to be his friend. Sabin, too; it's not fair the way you treated him. They've both done so much for you. Even if Edgar had been a thoughtless jerk, you shouldn’t have said those things to him.

You wander down the hall, feeling anxious. You have no idea where the king is or where to look. In his workspace in the basement, perhaps? You're about to check there when you pass his office door, which is partially open. You hear paper rustling inside, and you peer around the doorframe.

He doesn’t see you at first, but, boy, do you see him. Edgar sits at his rarely-used desk, trying to sort through a stack of papers. He looks like a wreck. His usually perfect hair is disheveled and sticks out at odd angles. His eyes are red; has he been crying too? The pocket watch he gave you sways against his chest as he works. You swallow hard and knock lightly on the door. He jumps and looks up.

“Edgar?” Your voice is scratchy and sounds too young to be your own. “Can I come in?”

He sits up straighter in his seat. “Yes, of course, if you’d like to.”

You walk in slowly, wringing your hands. You hear the door swing shut behind you. “Edgar, I…” You don’t know where to start. “I’m sorry.” That seems like a good place. “It wasn’t really a hickey, it…”

He holds up his hand. “I know, Sabin told me. He told me what you talked about, too, and how you saw me with Geneva.” Sorrow fills his eyes. “ _I_ should be the one apologizing. I broke your fragile heart, and then immediately jumped to conclusions when you went looking for comfort…”

He hangs his head, and you see a single tear slip down his face. “I ruined a wonderful relationship by being selfish.”

“Edgar…” You walk up next to him. It hurts you to see him like this, but a part of you is glad he cares about your relationship enough to fret so much.

He shakes his head. “And even after you made me lunch!” He gestures to a plate of pasta you totally overlooked when you walked in. “The cooks inquired when you failed to return with me. I told them you weren’t feeling well. I only just now started having an appetite, though. It’s very good, even as cold as it is.”

Your stomach whines. You realize you never got to eat the lunch you made either, and haven’t had anything since breakfast. He glances from you to the plate. “Would you like to finish this? It sounds like you need it more than I do.”

You gratefully take it, and sit down next to him. Silence engulfs you, which makes it all the more difficult to eat without being loud. You try to be eloquent as you slurp noodles while he halfheartedly sifts through some papers. It takes you a bit, but you work up the courage to break the silence and ask him. “…Who was that girl?”

He stiffens and sighs. “No one, and I mean that. She’s an ambassador from a new developing town, and I suppose she’s taken a liking to me. She started flirting, and I didn’t even think twice about it at first… It’s just such a habit with me, you know… Of course that’s no excuse… Anyway, before I realized what I was doing it was already too late. And then _you_ crossed my mind and I felt absolutely awful. I’d gone and told you no one else interested me the way you did, and yet there I was, flirting with someone else… I was still upset with myself when I found you with Sabin, and I suppose that’s why I reacted the way I did.”

You don’t know what to say. It takes you a minute to remember noodles are hanging halfway out of you mouth, and you hastily swallow them.

He solemnly watches you eat. “I understand if you want to stay away from me. You have every right. But…” You see his mouth tighten. “I couldn’t imagine my castle without you in it. I know it’s only been a couple of days, but… I just can’t explain it. Sabin says he’s noticed too. The way you make me feel… I’ve never cared for someone as much as I do for you. It’ll take me a while to break my old habits, I know, but… I’m willing to change if it means being with you. Could you… find it in your heart to forgive me?”

Your eyes water, and not from sadness. The plate clatters as you drop it to the floor and fling yourself on the king. He catches you, and you cry on his shoulder.

“Oh, Edgar…! You’re so sweet to me, how could I stay mad at you?” You laugh lightly, sitting up to wipe your eyes. “I feel bad for what I said earlier. I was just so upset… But I know you won’t change overnight, and that’s okay, because… I’m willing to take this journey if it means being with you.”

He smiles, biting his lip, and you're both blubbering messes for a moment. There are a lot of ‘I’m sorrys’ and watery kisses exchanged as you hug in his desk chair. You stay that way for a while, and you're content lying against his chest.

“Is Sabin okay?” you ask finally. “I feel like such a tool for using him like that…”

He laughs slightly. “Yes, he’s fine. He informed me that you are like a ‘perfect sister’ to him, and he knew you were just upset. He’s taken quite the liking to you. And that’s good, because if he’s going to be staying around here for the foreseeable future, he’ll be seeing a lot of you.”

You nuzzle into his neck. “I’m glad for that.”

“As much as I’d love to stay nestled here with you, would you like to go get something else to eat? I’ve neglected your emotional needs enough today; shame on me if I neglect your physical ones as well.”

Your stomach growls again in response. You both laugh. He pauses for a moment to remove the pocket watch and place it over your head. After one more kiss you stand and walk hand-in-hand to the dining room.


	8. Trudid's Ceremony

The days slip by. Weeks slowly turn into months. Nothing is ever uncovered about the missing elevator, and you couldn’t care less. You're much happier running about with the twins instead of doing schoolwork in a stuffy apartment. Sabin has taken it upon himself to teach you how to defend yourself, and your afternoons usually consist of sweating and panting on the roof as he trains with you. Evenings are filled with Edgar’s attention, from good food (that sometimes you help make!) to visiting nearby villages to dancing, and sometimes merely sitting and enjoying one another’s company. You love your new life, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

It's another hot afternoon, and you and Sabin are sparring in the battlements. You're still no match for his abilities, but you're getting better; it takes him about ten seconds to pummel you instead of instantaneously like before. He never actually hurts you, of course. He merely pins you to the stone, where you groan and smile before getting back up for the umpteenth time.

“Let’s take a break,” Sabin says, wiping his forehead. You reach for your lavender water bottle—a gift from Edgar, he says you look best in the presence of purple—and down the contents. He stretches, cracking his back against the wall. “You’ve gotten really good. I mean, there’s lots of room for improvement, but considering you’ve never fought before or anything, I’d call this whole thing a success so far!”

“Thanks, Sabin.” You wipe your mouth, grinning. “Maybe one day I’ll be able to suplex _you_!”

You both laugh at that. Afterwards you sit in content silence, enjoying the light breeze rustling your hair.

“You’re going off with Edgar tonight, aren’t you?” he asks finally. “He told me you’re helping him with a ceremony or something?”

“Yeah, it’s an unveiling of the new town nearby. All the buildings and laws have been put in place, and they’re ready to start moving people in. There’s a big ceremony tonight, and he wants me to represent Figaro alongside him.” You involuntarily swallow. It's kind of a big deal, and you're more than a little nervous. The fact that Edgar asked you to go with him shows how close your relationship has become. You've been more or less official for quite some time, and while his old habits resurface periodically, he's gotten much better about breaking them. You squabble about trivial things sometimes, but nothing nearly as big as ‘the walnut fiasco,’ as you jokingly call it.

“I’m glad he asked you to go and not me.” Sabin shudders. “I hate wearing tuxedos.”

You laugh, imagining him in a stuffy suit with his hair slicked back. “I bet you’d look so nice in one, though!”

He shrugs. “Maybe we’ll get to find out soon, when—” He suddenly gasps. “Oh! Never mind.”

“When what? What were you gonna say?” You're intrigued. Sabin is the worst secret-keeper; practically the whole castle knew about you and Edgar's kiss the following day because of him.

He shakes his head quickly. “It was nothing! Just, uh, remembered something from when I was younger and had to dress up a lot.” He lets out a nervous laugh.

“C’mon, tell me!” You go over and start poking and tickling him, but much to your surprise he doesn’t budge on the matter. He starts tickling back, though, and you're no match. Soon you're a writhing, giggling mess as you try to push him off unsuccessfully.

“Maybe you should go and start getting ready for tonight,” he says after releasing you from tickle torture. “I’d hate to be the reason you were late or something. But come back and say goodbye before you go!”

You regain your breath and stand up. “That’s a good idea. And I will!” You embrace briefly before descending back into the castle. Down some stairs and across the hall leads you to your chambers, where the bed has been made and a fresh rose lies on the pillow. You smile at it, your gaze moving to the breathtaking dress hanging from the floor mirror. It's a rich violet with ruffled sleeves and flowy fabric. You run a hand over the silk, in awe at how soft it feels. Edgar said he’d had a dress picked out for you, but you had no idea it would be _this_ nice. On the floor underneath it is a pair of matching purple pumps. You hate heels with a passion, but if he wants you to wear them, then you will.

After washing up you spend some time going through the makeup found in the cabinets under the sink. You have little knowledge of these things, but you're able to find some blush and lipstick that work with the dress. You struggle with the mascara, decide to give up on eyeliner, and eventually find yourself looking in the mirror at something you're happy with.

Your feet wobble in the heels, but you steady yourself as you practice strutting around the room. You want to make a good impression at the ceremony. The sun is setting through the window, and you know it's almost time to depart.

Sure enough, there's a light knock on the door. You stride over and open it. Standing in the hall is Edgar, and you have to catch your breath. He's wearing a jet black suit with a purple bow-tie, white gloves covering his elegant hands. It's strange to see him without a cape, but his hair still sways behind him, pulled tightly together with a bow.

His eyes go wide as he takes you in. “You… look ravishing,” he says finally. “You always look amazing, but this… I didn’t know you could look so good in anything.”

You bite your lip and feel your cheeks grow hot. “You look lovely yourself,” you hear yourself say. “And thank you for the dress; it’s wonderful and fits perfectly.”

“Full glad am I to hear it.” He sweeps you against him, leaning down before stopping. “Ah, I suppose I shouldn’t. I wouldn’t want to smudge your lovely makeup. I’ll just do this instead.” He weaves his fingers with yours and lifts your hand to his lips, leaving a lingering kiss. “Are you ready to depart, my love?”

You nod. “Ready when you are.”

“Excellent. Shall we?”

You walk, fingers still interlocked, to the castle entrance. Sabin is waiting for you, and he gives you both a hug and tells you to smuggle him back a piece of cake. The guards bow you out as you step into the fading sunlight. The village, Trudid, is a ways off, but the castle can’t get very close by submerging, so you're traveling by chocobo. The grand birds stand to one side, ruffling their golden feathers as you approach. Edgar helps lift you on to the smaller one before hoisting himself into his own saddle. With the raise of a hand you're off.

You hold firmly to the reins. While you've ridden chocobos in the past a few times, you've never quite gotten used to them. You just pray you won’t fall off and ruin your dress. Edgar is an old hand at riding; his hair swishes behind him as he leads the way, and you're mesmerized by the way he holds himself so elegantly. He catches you looking and offers a wink. You grin in response.

After some time the chocobos slow their trot. You've arrived at Trudid. Edgar leaps from his mount, and helps you down from yours. A man in a lavish azure cloak meets you at the gate, and leads your steeds to the stable for safekeeping. “They’ll be fed and tended to,” he assures you. “The mayor is eagerly awaiting your arrival at the town hall.”

The village is extremely tidy. Small houses line the sparkling streets, with little shops scattered throughout. A few people have already moved in and can be seen making their way to the village square, but most are to arrive the following morning. The town hall is set in the center of everything, marble steps leading up to the columned building. People are milling about, looking excited. Some stop you to speak with Edgar, and he keeps a firm hand on yours as he speaks. A little girl tugs on your dress and tells you you're pretty, and you give her a curtsy and thank her.

You ascend the steps and are ushered inside by another well-dressed man. A grand table has been set up in the spacious front hall, where people are dressed a lot nicer than they are outside. A woman in a short ball gown approaches you, and you recognize her to be the one you'd seen with Edgar that fateful day at the castle.

“King Edgar, so good to see you! I was worried you weren’t coming.” She tosses her hair and bats her eyelashes. You feel your stomach go sour.

“Good evening, Geneva, you’re looking well.” Edgar bows gracefully. “I’m looking forward to the grand unveiling of your village.”

“As am I! I’m so glad you could make it.” She glances at you. “And this is… your guest?”

“Yes, this is [Name].” He squeezes your hand, giving you a loving look. “She’s been lighting my life with radiant beams since the day I met her.”

Your face flushes at his elegance as you hold your hand out to Geneva. “It’s nice to meet you.”

She pauses for a moment before smiling and grasping you with a surprising grip. “Same to you, [Name]. I’m glad you could join us. Here, I’ll show you to your seats.”

You and Edgar sit at one end of the long table. All the representatives are to be fed before the ceremony takes place in the square. Servants bring out plates with food of all types, and your mouth waters. You see Geneva seated at the other end, next to who you presume to be the mayor of the new town. He's young, and keeps brushing ebony hair out of his eyes. She's chatting animatedly with him. You can’t help but smile; seems she's interested in people in the same way Edgar used to be.

After some words from said mayor, Eluric, you're allowed to dig in. Edgar heaps pasta onto his plate, and you follow his example. You talk idly with the people seated near you: leaders of various budding towns in the area. You're happy places are flourishing after the calamities of the past. Edgar holds your hand under the table whenever he has a free moment, occasionally caressing his thumb over your skin.

Once the scraping of utensils against china has died down a bit, the plates are cleared and you're led out into the square. Your stomach is full and you're feeling sleepy, but you know you need to be awake for the ceremony. You don’t want to let Edgar down. The representatives line up on either side of the podium set up at the top of the stairs. A decent-sized throng of people is congregated in front of you, large streetlights illuminating their eager faces.

Eluric taps the microphone to make sure it's on and clears his throat. “Welcome, friends and companions, to the grand unveiling of our new village of Trudid!” Everyone claps respectfully, and he continues once it's died down. “This is a big moment in all our lives. We’ve worked hard to make it to this point. Countless hours of labor were lovingly put into the infrastructures surrounding us, not to mention a great deal of generous donations. I’d like to take a moment to thank each group individually who helped our small idea flourish into the town you see before you tonight.”

He proceeds to run through a list of names and places, each representative bowing in turn as he announces their various accomplishments. When Figaro is called, there's particularly loud applause; you suppose Edgar is known far and wide for his generosity. He bows deeply, and tugs gently on your arm to signal you to do the same. You keep your eyes on the marble stairs until the clapping ceases and the next name is announced. Edgar winks at you and you offer him an embarrassed smile.

Once all the names are called, Eluric raises his arms. “And now, without further ado, it is time to officially open our town.” Geneva walks forward and hands him a large pair of scissors. He accepts them with a flourish, and turns to the thick ribbon that hangs across two pillars of the building. With a loud _snip!_ the bow is cut, and everyone claps and cheers.

Once the formalities are done, people begin dispersing and talking amongst themselves. More people stop to speak with Edgar, and you politely stand at his side as they chat. In reality you're quite tired, and your feet hurt from the heels. You are, however, still honored to be recognized as a representative of Figaro. A few people inquire about you, and Edgar is quick to introduce you as his ‘special guest.’ You shuffle your feet awkwardly and smile.

The crowd thins, and you excuse yourself to sit down on the stairs to wait for him. You're admiring the night sky, trying to pick out constellations, when he sits beside you.

“So sorry to keep you waiting, my sweet. Are you tired? We can go now if you’d like.”

You nod slowly. “I’m sorry, I’m just not sure if social gatherings are my strongest point.” You feel like you haven’t behaved to your fullest extent; should you have tried to talk with more people? Is he unhappy with you for being so spaced-out?

He puts an arm over your shoulders and squeezes gently. “You did wonderfully, love. I really appreciate you accompanying me here; I wasn’t looking forward to coming by myself.” He gives you a warm smile. “I promise your performance was admirable, and rest assured, an encore won’t be required anytime soon.”

His words give you comfort. You lean against him, enjoying the fresh scent of his suit. He speaks softly. “Geneva thanked me for attending, and said she was happy to see me with such a remarkable lady.”

“Really?” You squeak. He chuckles. “Really.”

Rising from his seat, he lifts you by the hand. “Come, lovely. Let’s head out.”

You begin to walk out of the square, but your steps are shaky and slow. He stops, looking concerned.

“It’s these heels…” you say absentmindedly, trying to shift your feet’s position in them.

“Here, I have an idea. Take them off.” You obey, even though the thought of walking to the chocobo stables in bare feet doesn’t thrill you. Before you can take another step, Edgar sweeps you up in his arms and begins walking again. The few people still present clap at his actions, and you hide your face in his coat, smiling with embarrassment.

“Why do you always have to be such a gentleman?” you ask him playfully.

You see him wink out of the corner of your eye. “Well, _someone_ has to do it.”


	9. A Happy Ending

“Edgar, isn’t the castle the other way?”

You and the king are on your way back from the ceremony, and he suddenly led your steeds in an unfamiliar direction. His smile is bright in the dimness of the evening. “I wanted to show you something before we head back. Is that okay, or are you too tired?”

You shake your head, intrigued. “I’ll be fine; what is it?”

His smile widens. “Just wait and see.”

After some time, the sight of underbrush can be seen on the horizon. That's certainly odd; desert surrounds you, and you haven’t seen a single tree since leaving the area around Trudid. As you get closer, palms come into focus, encompassing a small pool of standing water. Edgar has led you to an oasis.

“Here we are.” He slides from his chocobo, which ruffles its feathers happily and moves towards the water. He helps you down; your heels are tucked into the saddle bag, and the cool sand feels nice on your bare feet.

“It’s beautiful,” you say in awe. “How many of these exist in this desert?”

“This is the only one I’ve ever seen. I would have taken you here sooner, but I wanted to save it for a special occasion.” He smiles at you again, reaching for your hand. “You look so lovely in the moonlight,” he murmurs.

You shuffle your feet. You never get tired of his kind words. Even after all this time, he still comes up with new compliments to give you every day. You watch your chocobos drink from the pool as he strokes your hand. All is quiet save the rippling of the water from eager beaks and the rustling of palm leaves overhead.

“Edgar?” you hear yourself say.

“Yes, my love?” He takes your other hand.

“Thank you. For everything.” Emotions suddenly well up inside you. “I just… all this… getting to meet you, to be with you, and do all these wonderful things… to be spoiled rotten by you… I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.” You squeeze his hands. “…I love you, King Edgar.”

His smile is sweet, sincere. He kisses the back of one of your hands. “It my privilege, my _honor_ , to give you what you want; nay, what you deserve. You’ve changed me for the better, [Name], and I’m so blessed to have your radiance in my life. I love you too, with all my heart. If only I’d known then, that first time I saw you in my throne room, what a remarkable person you’d turn out to be. Perhaps I would have asked a lot sooner.”

Your smile falters. “Asked what?”

You watch him swallow a lump in his throat. He closes his eyes, and lowers himself to the sand on one knee. You stifle a gasp. He rummages in his pocket and pulls out a small velvet box. His eyes lock with yours. “If you would care to spend eternity with me.”

He opens the box, and sitting in white satin is a golden ring, with a beautiful amethyst gemstone embedded in its surface. You swear your heart's stopped beating. Time seems to slow, and you have to remember to breathe. Tears brim in your eyes, and you break into a grin as you blurt out your answer. “…Yes, _yes_ , of course…! I… oh, _Edgar!_ ”

His own eyes are wet as you hug him fiercely. You laugh as he twirls you in a circle, not unlike your dance on the first night you'd met. You don’t want to let go of him, even though you've probably ruined his suit by crying all over him.

“I had a feeling you’d say yes, but I was still so nervous to ask.” He strokes your cheek, tipping your chin up towards him. “I’m so glad I was right.”

“Me too,” you whisper simply, and you lean in to kiss him for a long, long time.

* * *

The wedding was lavish. Perhaps even a little too lavish for your tastes, but you know how much Edgar likes to spoil you, so you let him. Purple covered everything, including Sabin, who tolerated wearing a lavender tuxedo. He was the best man, of course, and he fidgeted through the whole ceremony, but he did his best to act accordingly because he wanted to support you. Edgar still lets him train with you and give you piggyback rides through the castle, and you appreciate the trust you have. Geneva came as well, and she gave you both lots of hugs and gushed congratulations. She still stops by sometimes for dinner, and is pleasant to be around, albeit tiresome.

You got to meet the rest of the cast from VI, as they were all thrilled their kingly machinist finally decided to settle down. Terra brought all the orphaned children she’d adopted, and they took an immediate liking to you. Setzer let you take his airship on a joyride after the ceremony, which Edgar was thrilled about. Celes and Locke make an adorable couple, and Celes helps you sometimes when you have questions about married life, because there are moments when you honestly have no idea what you're doing. Cyan, Strago, Relm, and Gau are just as supportive as their comrades, and you're happy to report they’re all doing just fine after the events of the game ended.

As for you? You couldn’t be happier. Being queen of Figaro has a lot of responsibilities, but you never seem to tire of people calling you ‘Queen [Name].’ Edgar says the title suits you very well. He also says you handle the workload a lot better than he does. You try to keep him on track, but sometimes you both end up sneaking out of your duties to slip away somewhere. You usually end up back at that oasis where both your lives changed forever.

You still find time in between these obligations to take a break and wander out on the battlements in the evenings, or admire the tapestries lining the hallways, or stroll down to the basement, where this amazing journey of clocks, pasta, plushes, walnuts, and love first began.


End file.
